


An Ideal New Year’s

by wowbright



Series: Klaine Advent 2013 [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Advent Challenge 2013, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Frottage, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Years, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowbright/pseuds/wowbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine feels bad for ruining New Year’s with a stupid case of the flu. Kurt takes a different view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ideal New Year’s

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the [Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge](http://klaineadvent.tumblr.com/) prompts: Day 8 (Human), Day 14 (Neon), Day 19 (Stitch), Day 21 (Us), Day 23 (Whisper), Day 24 (Yes).
> 
> Also, for [nachochang](http://nachochang.tumblr.com/), who asked a very long time ago for sweet, affectionate sick!fic. Here you go, my dear! (And apologies for any mistakes but I thought it would be rude to ask you to beta it.)

Blaine feels bad for ruining New Year’s with a stupid case of the flu. Kurt takes a different view. NC-17 ~2,300 words.

A fill for the [Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge](http://klaineadvent.tumblr.com/) prompts: Day 8 (Human), Day 14 (Neon), Day 19 (Stitch), Day 21 (Us), Day 23 (Whisper), Day 24 (Yes).

Also, for [nachochang](http://nachochang.tumblr.com/), who asked a very long time ago for sweet, affectionate sick!fic. Here you go, my dear! (And apologies for any mistakes but I thought it would be rude to ask you to beta it.)

_*_

**Human**

_To err is human, to forgive divine._  But Blaine Anderson finds it hard to work toward divinity when his head is full of snot and he’s so weak he can’t even sip chamomile tea without Kurt holding it up to his mouth.

“Sweetie,” says Kurt, setting the tea on the nightstand next to their bed. “Being mad at yourself isn’t going to help you feel any better.”

Blaine sniffles. “But tomorrow’s our first New Year’s Eve together in New  York and I wanted to go out on the town and buy you champagne –”

“Your fake I.D. won’t work here.”

“– and kiss you at midnight and then bring you home in a limo and have sex with you until dawn.”

Kurt pats Blaine on the knee. “You can still kiss me at midnight.”

Blaine shivers. “Ugh. Why would you want to kiss me? I’m gross and feverish and scruffy and I haven’t had a real shower in days.”

Kurt cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t like my sponge baths?”

“I don’t like being sick. And I wouldn’t be sick if I’d remembered to get my flu shot.”

“You don’t know that. Some strains of flu get through anyway.”

Blaine tries to roll his eyes, but his eyeballs are too heavy to move, so he just sighs. “Then why aren’t you or Rachel or Santana sick?”

“We’ve been in New York longer. We’ve developed greater immunity to its germs.”

Blaine sighs. He can’t turn back time and not get sick, but he can make sure this doesn’t happen again next winter. He starts to reach toward where his iPhone is sitting on the nightstand, but Santana must have tied lead bricks to his hands when he wasn’t looking because he can barely lift them off his lap.“Hand me my iPhone. Need to schedule next year’s flu shot in my iCalendar. Then I won’t forget.”

Kurt presses his wrist against Blaine’s forehead. “Sweetie, you’re still feverish. You go back to sleep and I’ll add a reminder on your phone, okay?”

“ ’kay,” Blaine mumbles, letting his lids fall closed. He tries to add, “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” but he’s not sure if his lips actually move.

*

**Neon**

A little after 9 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, when most of his friends are out on the town already beginning to get the evening’s drunk on, Blaine wakes up to sheets that are soaked through. He wonders for a moment if he’s had a wet dream, because just before he awoke he was in a dance club with Kurt (neon lights flashing around them, the scent of sweat and lust everywhere), alternately twerking his ass against Kurt’s cock and kneeling on the floor, Kurt solid in his mouth as the dancers around them watched and wanted.

Blaine reaches his hand under the waistband of his pajamas. His dick is hard and his stomach is damp, but it’s sweat, not come. He gives his dick a slight squeeze and sighs contentedly.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Kurt singsongs beside him. “How’re you feeling?” Blaine opens his eyes and turns toward the voice. Kurt is sitting on his side of the bed, his back against the headboard. He’s looking down with a fondness that makes Blaine’s heart skip. (Incidentally, it also makes Blaine feel even hornier.)

Blaine frees his hand from inside his pants and wraps it around Kurt’s ankle. “Awesome. My fever broke.”

“I noticed.” Kurt pats the sweat-soaked front of Blaine’s pajama shirt.

“Also, I’m incredibly horny.”

“Are you now?”

Blaine nods. “You must be, too. It’s been like a week since we’ve had sex.”

Kurt suppresses a smile. “I have ways of taking care of myself.”

Blaine reaches into his pajama pants again. “I’d like to watch that sometime.”

“Now that you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah. I should get cleaned up, and then I should watch you masturbate, and then we should have sex, and then we should go to a New Year’s party, and then –”

Kurt giggles and runs his fingers over Blaine’s damp hair. “Honey, your fever  _just_  broke. How about we take things one at a time?”

*

**Stitch**

Kurt was right of course. Despite Blaine’s relative increase in energy, he’s not quite ready for an all-night sex-and-dancing marathon. He has to lean against Kurt as they walk through the deserted loft to the bathroom, and his legs are so jelly-filled that he has to sit down on the toilet lid to get his pajama pants off. He stays seated there, naked and wrapped in a large towel, as Kurt fills the tub. The scent of eucalyptus breaks through Blaine’s dwindling congestion. It’s not a scent he usually finds erotic, but the fact that he can smell anything at all makes him feel healthy, which makes him feel alive and vibrant, which makes him feel horny as fuck.

It doesn’t help that Kurt is wearing incredibly tight jeans and keeps bending over with his ass high in the air, all round and bitable, the stitching of the back seam stroking temptingly over the divide. Or that when he stands up his zipper bulges out over his cock, beckoning like temptation itself.

“Take off your clothes?” Blaine says.

Kurt turns toward him and winks. “Yes, sir.”

It makes Blaine giggle.

But then Kurt is pulling his fitted t-shirt off over his head and tossing it into the hamper. It’s a glorious expanse of alabaster skin broken only by two pink nipples that go hard upon exposure to the air.

Then Kurt peels off his jeans, revealing tight red briefs and endless legs, as strong and flawless as Grecian temple columns – but much, much sexier.

He checks the temperature of the water and turns it off, staying bent over long enough to pull his briefs down over the scrumptious globes of his ass.

“Fuck me,” Blaine whispers with the sincerity of a praying pilgrim.

Kurt drops his briefs to the floor and winks. “Mmmm, the only dilemma is figuring out the best method of achieving that, given your weakened state.”

He steps toward Blaine and offers his hand. Blaine should really look up at Kurt’s face, but he can’t keep his eyes off Kurt’s penis. He hasn’t seen it in days, and it’s gorgeous right now – not hard exactly, but not fully relaxed. It’s starting to stiffen, and stiffens more as Blaine stares at it, rising slightly away from Kurt’s balls as it fills.

“God, I’ve missed us,” Blaine blurts out.

Kurt curls his fingers around Blaine’s palm. “Us, or my cock?”

Blaine looks up at Kurt’s crinkling eyes. “Both.”

*

**Us**

The bath water is perfect. Kurt gets in with Blaine, sitting down first and pulling Blaine against him, his chest against Blaine’s back and his thighs around his hips. Blaine sinks against Kurt and sighs. “I could sleep like this.”

Kurt traces his fingertips over the outline of Blaine’s still-hard cock. “You sure about that?”

Blaine pushes himself more snugly against Kurt’s body. “No.”

“Good,” Kurt whispers, but he moves his hand away from Blaine’s cock and reaches for the washcloth perched on the tub’s ledge, squirting bathgel into it before rubbing it over Blaine’s chest. “Because I want to make you come.”

“You won’t have to try very hard.”

Kurt laughs and nibbles Blaine’s ear.

Blaine lets Kurt wash him. His hands are like a homecoming, beckoning Blaine back into his body after a long absence, coaxing him into loving it again. He washes the sweat from Blaine’s shoulders and arms and thighs, massages shampoo into Blaine’s weary scalp and lowers him into the water for the rinse, making sure his face doesn’t go under.

“Shave me?” Blaine murmurs. He could probably wait until tomorrow to do it himself once he’s eaten his way back to a modicum of strength. But he doesn’t want Kurt’s hands to leave him – not quite yet.

“It would be my pleasure.” Kurt steps out to grab Blaine’s shaving kit and Blaine settles back in the water, closing his eyes.

He opens them again when he hears Kurt stepping back into the tub. Kurt lowers himself down, his cock bobbing teasingly in front of Blaine’s eyes for a brief moment before he lowers himself fully into Blaine’s lap. “This okay?”

“Come closer,” Blaine says, pulling at Kurt’s hips until their erections touch.

Kurt smiles. “It’s going be difficult to shave you under these circumstances.”

“I trust you.”

Kurt kisses him, then begins.

It’s not easy to stay still as Kurt shaves him. Their erections slide against each other every time Kurt shifts. But Blaine’s weakness is a benefit here; it forces him to stay still and lavish in each seductive stroke of the razor, each gentle splash of water against his skin.

“God, you’re smooth,” Kurt marvels when he’s done, dragging his lips over Blaine’s jaw. “I love you.”

“Show me.”

Kurt drops his hand between them and wraps it around their cocks, stroking up and down, a sweet near-frictionless slide that is too much after this week of deprivation and also not nearly enough. Blaine’s hips churn in the water toward Kurt’s touch. “Oh god Kurt I love you.”

Kurt kisses him. “I know.”

Blaine doesn’t last nearly long enough. How can he, with Kurt’s hardness pressed against him and Kurt’s thighs wrapped around him and Kurt’s eyes half-shut in pleasure, then wide open, then his mouth open, too, moaning, “Oh Blaine I missed fucking you, love making you feel like this, love  _us,_  love  _you_ –”

Blaine’s balls rise tight against his body, life sparking and darting inside of them, curling up in bright spirals of desire.

He comes so hard it almost hurts – a fine, trembling ache like the discovery of an unused muscle.

Kurt keeps stroking them both, pulling reverberation after reverberation of the original orgasm out of Blaine’s body, coaxing his own body closer toward the edge.

Kurt comes with a shout – he’s usually so quiet but not now, the loft is all their own and this moment is their own. Kurt’s body stiffens and he lifts his hips and cock out of the water and spurts – spurts onto the surface of the water and Blaine’s shoulder and chin and Blaine’s eager tongue.

When the orgasm settles from his body, he collapses back into the water and breaks into giggles. “Oh my god, I give you a bath and then come on your face. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” He  _tsk-tsks_  at himself as he splashes traces of semen from Blaine’s face. “Did that sting? Where I just shaved you?”

Blaine shakes his head and grins. “No. It was delicious.”

Kurt snickers. “You’ve been congested for a week. I doubt you’re a good judge of what tastes good.”

“You  _always_  taste good.”

*

**Whisper**

They wrap themselves in robes and slippers before heading to the kitchen. Kurt makes toast and reheats some chicken soup for Blaine to eat while he goes to put new, sweat-free linens on the bed.

Blaine pouts as Kurt starts to walk away. “I’ll miss you. Don’t be a stranger.”

Kurt comes back long enough to kiss Blaine on the head and whisper, “I’ll be right on the other side of the curtain. And you need to stay here and eat to get your strength back.”

Blaine smiles. “So I can stay up another hour and kiss you when the ball drops at Times Square? Or so we can make more vigorous love tomorrow?”

“Both of those.”

As soon as Blaine starts to eat, he realizes that he’s ravenous – almost as ravenous for food as he was for Kurt earlier this evening. Instead of taking his soup in small, dainty spoonfuls like he normally would, he puts the bowl up to his mouth and slurps the contents down. He then tears into the toast like a rugby player into the opposing team.

He pats his stomach and burps his satisfaction.

It’s then that the exhaustion tackles him from his blind spot.

*

**Yes**

Blaine doesn’t remember Kurt finding him in the kitchen with his face planted on the table, toast crumbs pressed into his cheek. He doesn’t remember Kurt heaving him out of the chair or half-guiding, half-carrying him back to bed. He definitely doesn’t remember watching the ball drop at Times Square, because he was asleep when it happened – and also because Kurt didn’t turn the television on. He was too busy admiring Blaine’s face in the dim light coming through the window.

Blaine doesn’t stir until the sun rises the next morning. Kurt is already awake, but just barely. He props himself up on his elbow and smiles as Blaine opens his eyes. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says.

“Morning?” Blaine mutters. “Did I – Did I miss midnight?”

“Technically? No. You were right here.”

“In other words, ‘yes.’” Blaine frowns. “I’m the suckiest boyfriend ever! I was supposed to kiss you into the New Year! I can’t believe I –”

Kurt leans down and interrupts Blaine with a very long, very fervent, kiss. Blaine almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t mind though, because it’s the Kurt-takes-my-breath-away kind of breathlessness, not the flu-related kind. In fact, it’s rather intoxicating. Better, even, than that champagne that Blaine had been planning to purchase illegally.

“There,” Kurt smirks as Blaine tries to regain his bearings, and fails. “We’ve kissed each other into the New Year now. Was that satisfactory?”

Blaine nods dumbly, then shakes his head. “Actually, I think we should do that some more. For it to be truly satisfactory.”

Kurt’s eyes crinkle. “How about after I make you breakfast?”

“You’re too good to me.”

“You’d do the same for me if I was sick.”

Blaine shrugs in acquiescence. “So you’re not mad? About not really having a New Year’s?”

Kurt falls back onto the mattress and pulls Blaine close. “I had the best possible New Year’s. I spent it with you.”


End file.
